The Rising
by Alice-In-Otherlands
Summary: What happened to Faerieland's darkest secret after Fyora released her? Xandra divulges in her dark thoughts and what it was like in her imprisonment, finding a new hatred and vengeance to act on.


It was strange how little the world had changed in fifteen years…Very little in fact. Physically, it looked as if it went under a war and then someone did a poor job fixing it up, but appearances meant nothing to her.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

It was still the same land, still the same people, and still the same secrets and treachery. Yes, very little had changed. Nothing had changed, really. People still ambled about in the city that was glowing with lights, perfectly unaware in their own happy little worlds, unaware that a secret had been released, one that should have been kept under lock and key, or hidden away in the darkness of a dungeon. They had no idea she was free, free after fifteen years of complete darkness and solitude. Fifteen years of sensory deprivation, fifteen years of torture, fifteen years of absolutely _nothing_.

They had no idea.

It was almost comical, the way the city looked to her. The people and the land simply brought a rusty and cracked laugh to her unsmiling lips. They were all so pitiful, yet entertaining at the same time to watch. It was a wonder how the city had adapted to land on the ground, after being in the sky for so many years.

Buildings lopsided, streets rising and falling unexpectedly…Trees crooked, mountains ragged, and rivers bent and twisting…To some, it looked like a rather quaint and happy little city, which had fared a bit of damage, damage almost invisible to the eye. To those stupid, unseeing citizens, they looked at it like home. Like a happy little smile upon the face of a great queen, this city comforted them, coddled them even.

To her, it looked like a prison, a dark and dank hole on this planet, the crooked and ugly sneer of a great beast that lived within the city, clad in a crown and called queen…

To her, it had once been a symbol, one that she had almost removed. She had done what even the Darkest Faerie couldn't. But it still wasn't enough.

She almost succeeded. Then everything had been taken away, stolen from her…Ripped away what little she had left. That thief had stolen away what years of careful planning and training had done, and that queen had taken away what little piece of sanity she had left. Took away everything, left her as nothing more than a mind trapped in a pit of darkness, her physical body lost in a covering of granite. She was so close, she had been so close! And then…Everything, gone.

The croaking laugh ceased to exist as the shadowy figure shut her mouth, hunching over on the ground in a painful fit of anguish; her fingers digging into the muddy ground for support and leaving deep furrows in the wet, black dirt. Her dark green hair hung in damp, tangled strings around her face. Her joints, they burned…She could hardly stand without swaying or her limbs feeling as if they were being ground into dust. Her lungs, which had not expanded for fifteen years, ached with every breath and her heart pounded a painful and erratic rhythm in her chest, almost like a battering ram against a locked door. Just the thought of what had happened reduced her to a weak form, hunched over on the ground gasping for breath and shivering from the pain.

It hurt to think of what happened, but she knew she had to keep on. Otherwise, it would all fade away, fade away into nothingness. She had a hard time remembering things, struggled to remember the most simple of things…Fifteen years alone in the dark had done that to her, robbed her of her memory and had dulled her senses. She forgot what it was like to breathe, what it was like to see...She could see colors but the names of what hue they were, she forgot.

Hissing in pain, the figure stood up slowly, swaying erratically on her feet as she once again set her deep violet eyes-sharp and cracked eyes- on the city below her as she forced herself to remember, to remember why all this had happened.

No one had seen it the way she did. No one. No one saw the evil and the treachery and the misery she had seen and endured all her life. No one, they were all stuck in their little fantasies of what life was supposed to be. But she had seen it; she had seen it all with perfect sight, seen it all with crystal clear clarity. She had seen everything for what it truly was, nothing impairing her vision.

She had seen the city and what cruelty it hid behind pastel colors and magic. She had seen the secrets the leaders had so desperately tried to hide, but failed.

Everything thought she was wrong, that she was insane to think so. Insane to think that they were monsters, that they were evil, that they were tyrants…No. She wasn't insane, she was right. They were all wrong, simply choosing to believe in what they were spoon-fed from day one. They just believed what they were shown; always saw the world in black and white.

Right and wrong, good and evil.

But it was so much more than that, why couldn't they see? She could see, she could see it all. She didn't see in black and white, or even blurred shades of gray.

She saw the world in color, bright and vivid color. She had seen the wars that had been painted in gruesome crimson reds and mud browns, she had seen the misery painted in pitiful gray and heartbroken blue. She saw the world for what it truly was, not for what a group of winged creatures made it up to be, not the land of happiness and wonder they said it was. They weren't what they made themselves up to be either. They weren't beautiful, kind, and compassionate creatures, not in the slightest.

They might have been valiant at one point that they had been in the past, before all the misery they had caused now. They might have been kind and gracious creatures, they might have been powerful at one point. But they weren't anymore; they were just a symbol for what had once been.

Just a symbol.

They had become lazy and weak. They lured little pets into thinking that it would be perfectly fine for them to go out of their way to fetch a useless item, in turn for a toy or food. If they were such powerful and graceful creatures, they could fetch those items themselves, do their work for themselves and not call upon the labor of pets to do it for them.

They said they only acted in times of need, where no one else could save the helpless…What about her? What about her time of need? When she needed them most? Where were they when she needed them as a child, when she had been running through that maze of gnarled roots and trees trying to escape those Werelupes? The same ones that ripped her mother apart in front of her? Where were they? If they were so powerful, so kind and caring, so compassionate for all forms of life, where were they in her time of need? What about when she was helpless, was she not as important as others? Apparently not…If she had been, those wretched tyrants would have taken a moment to save her.

But no. They hadn't. They had simply let a tragedy happen and then had the gall to wave it off like it was nothing when she confronted them about it. They hadn't been busy, or unable to help her…They just didn't want to.

The figure hissed behind clenched teeth and balled her hands into tight fists. She began to shake and tremble once more, but not in pain or in fear. Her entire frame, frail and weak as it was, was shaking in undiluted rage and fury. Hunching over once more onto the ground, she let her anger wash and crash over her like black waves smacking into a shore. Anger, it hurt…It burned and seethed within. It growled and gnashed its teeth, like a great and ugly monster, ripping away at whatever it could grab onto; anger bubbled and churned away within the speckled Xweetok. She let the anger consume her, fuel her…She needed to know why she was continuing on, she needed a reason why she was to continue her plan. Anger was welcome to her, hatred gave her insight. Fury made her stronger, helped her remember who the hatred was directed at and why. Anger helped bring back the memories that had faded away after so many years…

Anger brought back memories of all the pain and misery she had taken, that she had endured. Anger helped return the memories of all the lies Fyora had spouted, of all the pain she caused. It brought back memories of finally putting a stop to it and turning the Faeries to stone. Memories of lying and pretending to help the heroes of the past. The city burning and crashing into the ground behind her. Memories of Hanso betraying her and Brynn being too simple-minded to understand. She remembered the darkness and the nothingness of her prison. But something was still missing, she was still missing one last link for it to all make sense.

Looking up from the ground, she set her gaze on the city in front of her. A city she had almost destroyed, the city she had ripped from the sky. There it was, seated in the ground with lights flickering and shining brightly down at her. It seemed to gleam and shine brighter than it had in the past…No, that had just been the rain that had been pouring down in thick, cold sheets not half an hour prior.

They said that rain washes away the dirt, washes away the pain and secrets. Left everything clean and pure. But there she was, the one secret that had escaped—been let loose—from Faerieland…She was there, lying in a still damp and shaking heap on the muddy ground only fifty feet away from the gilded gates to the city. It was a wonder she hadn't been caught yet, being so close and weak to the city. But no one had been sent after her yet. Strange.

Her anger was diminishing, slowly it ebbed away and leaving the Xweetok empty feeling as she lay hunched over in the mud. She was silent for a long moment before she realized with a start what was truly happening. As soon as the realization dawned on her, her head snapped up and she stared at the city as it glowed in the nighttime darkness.

Then a soft, crackling laugh slipped from her lips.

She finally remembered why her anger was so important to her, it brought back faded memories. She could finally remember, back when she had been trapped in the pit of darkness, how she had been planning and waiting, figuring out what actions would be taken and which wouldn't. Just waiting until the queen caved, and then when she finally broke, she'd execute her revenge, she would make the queen regret imprisoning her. She knew why Fyora hadn't sent her armies after her, why she hadn't reacted…

The figure laughed a little louder, gripping into the wet dirt even tighter with her hands as her laughs racked her entire body; shaking and quaking as she cackled with shrill laughter.

No wonder why there hadn't been any army sent after her, Fyora was still waiting for it to arrive! After all, her soldiers were scattered all over the globe…

One in Shenkuu, two from Brightvale, one from Altador, and one from Qasala.

A blind man who saw more than any other man she ever knew. A traitor and a knight. And the two kings, one with a noble past and the other with a past that rivaled her own dark one. They were coming for her…Perfect.

Finally, the laughter slowed down and eventually stopped. The figure somehow made it to her feet, looking back to the city once more. Ah, it was all falling into place…Everything. A large grin curled on her lips as a soft chuckle escaped her. It was all coming into play, finally! Her little plan—her game—was finally beginning

Taking a shaky step back, she began to walk a slow and stumbling step toward a cluster of willow trees, perhaps to hide in, or to simply wait and rest her weakened body. All the while, she kept chuckling softly. Oh, it was so predictable…She knew this would happen, she knew it.

"Oh, my dear queen...It's your move," she began in a breathy whisper, stumbling closer to the trees as she spoke. "It's your turn in my game, what shall you do? Have you called upon your champions from the previous game?" she continued, finally making it to the small grove and becoming cloaked in the darkness of the shadows. "Yes, I do believe you've called for them…What did you say? Hm?" she went on, giggling madly as she spoke to herself. Ah, she could see it now…

"What will you say? That you let me loose? That you let one of Faerieland's secrets escape from its prison? Or will you say that I escaped? I bet the latter, you'll say that I escaped…It'll just make the truth all the sweeter when I tell them myself, right after I destroy Faerieland and all the faeries who rule it." Xandra finished, chuckling lowly once more as a trickle of tangled green hair fell into her cracked violet eyes; the same eyes that had watched the city burn and fall from the sky so many years ago.

But for now, she simply lapsed into silence and waited once more, waiting until she knew that Fyora had called for her 'heroes' to come and keep her secret. She didn't mind waiting…She had grown ever so patient in her prison.

After all…Xandra had waited fifteen years in the darkness of Fyora's punishment…She could wait just a little while longer when it came to getting her revenge. So for now, she waited underneath the slippery shadows of the willows, with her ever sharp violet gaze.

And she knew one thing.

She would not be stopped.


End file.
